I am glad that Jesus spoke to a woman at a well
that a woman touched his cloak and was healed
that a girl sat up when he told her to
that stones fell from the hands of an angry, self-righteous crowd.
I am glad that a woman bent double, straightened up;
that one with a fever cooled down,
that to a mother a son was restored,
that a Canaanite woman refused to be ignored,
that Mary sat by him and learned
and that he told her sister, ‘Martha, Martha.’
I am glad for tears that fell on dirty feet,
for precious oil spilled like precious blood,
for a woman who lost a son to a cross;
for women who insisted, “He is not there.”
I am glad that these women wept for him, believed in him, followed him, fought with him, loved him more than they could put into words.
Most of all, I am glad for this man, this Jesus of Nazareth.
This man who cared so much that he cared little about convention; whose love was bigger than disapproving disciples and a sexist society.
This man who served a God who picks the most vulnerable from the ground and holds them close, like pearls in the palm of his hand.
This is the God that I serve.
Our reading in church today came from John 4 (Jesus and the Samaritan woman at the well). It’s the same section we read a few weeks back for the Women’s World Day of Prayer event. John 4:27 especially tugged at something in my soul: “Just then his disciples came back. They marveled that he was talking with a woman.” They marveled that he was talking with a woman. Marveled! I marvel at this man. At his love, his constancy, his fearlessness, his patience, his kindness. This Son of God, Son of Man.
This guy! :)